Not a
sound was to be heard. Against the low streak of light in the sky I
could see the mast of Powell's cutter moored to the bank some twenty
yards, no more, beyond that black barn or whatever it was. I hailed him
with a loud shout. Got no answer. After making fast my boat just
astern, I walked along the bank to have a look at Powell's. Being so
much bigger than mine she was aground already. Her sails were furled;
the slide of her scuttle hatch was closed and padlocked. Powell was
gone. He had walked off into that dark, still marsh somewhere. I had
not seen a single house anywhere near; there did not seem to be any human
habitation for miles; and now as darkness fell denser over the land I
couldn't see the glimmer of a single light. However, I supposed that
there must be some village or hamlet not very far away; or only one of
these mysterious little inns one comes upon sometimes in most unexpected
and lonely places.
"The stillness was oppressive. I went back to my boat, made some coffee
over a spirit-lamp, devoured a few biscuits, and stretched myself aft, to
smoke and gaze at the stars.
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